


all manor of things

by renaissance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Future Fic, Harry Potter Next Generation, Heist, M/M, Malfoy Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is languishing in unemployment when Teddy sweeps back into his life with a proposition he can't refuse, the excitement of a heist. The target: a priceless necklace. The location: Malfoy Manor. The catch? They can't use any magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all manor of things

**Author's Note:**

> With two weeks to go until its deadline, I discovered the [hprarefest](http://hprarefest.livejournal.com/) and also this excellent prompt for James, Teddy, and a heist, and I knew I had to write it. Right now, the fest is still posting, and there are plenty of other fics (there and in the ao3 collection) to check out.
> 
> Quick warning: please tread carefully if you suffer from emetophobia! There is nothing graphic, but there are mentions in a scene near the beginning to watch out for.
> 
> And of course, many thanks to Aro for beta reading!

The door clicked open and scratched across the carpet. James was lying on the couch with his feet resting on Victoire’s cat, fur poking out around his strawberry-patterned socks. The cat—Macy, named lovingly after that weekend in New York—didn’t mind. She sat complacently, only stirring when James twisted his neck, and his torso, and then probably his legs, so that he could see who was at the door. Macy darted under the coffee table and out of sight.

The visitor only hovered in the doorway. James could hear them hesitating.

“You can come through, you know.”

No response.

Sitting up, James pushed aside his coffee cup. Empty. How long had he been asleep? The telly was going softly in the background; the news had ended. It was getting late, dark outside. James would always watch the Muggle news to feel good about himself. And after an early morning and a long day, picking up a drop in Kensington Gardens at five, he couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards, because what would be the point? So no wonder he’d fallen asleep during the personal interest story at the end of the news. Heartwarming, but mind-numbing.

“I’m only going to ask one more time,” he said. Victoire wasn’t home. He had to look after the place. “Who’s there?”

A middle-aged man stepped out of the shadows. He was a little taller than James, dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit and twisting the rim of a wide-brimmed but stiff hat between his fingers. He looked shy but proud, born into society but not for its company.

He did not introduce himself. They often didn’t. But he did speak, which wasn’t always a guarantee.

“Did you watch the news tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah,” James said. “And?”

The man clearly wanted an opening to say more. He looked gratified that James was prompting him. “I don’t suppose there was anything about the theft of a priceless diamond?”

“Bit specific,” James said. “No, there wasn’t anything.”

“Oh.” The man looked disappointed. “Oh, well.”

“So are you going to tell me about it?”

The man’s expression brightened. “It was a PC3 diamond,” he said, “the purest pink champagne colouring. A good size, and Asscher cut. Owned by a prominent member of the House of Lords—so I assumed it’d be all over the news.”

“Maybe it hasn’t gotten out yet,” James suggested.

“Maybe,” the man agreed. “Still, it would be a waste for such an impressive heist to go unreported.”

“Magical, d’you think?” James asked.

“Oh, for certain,” the man said. “Here’s how it happened: a few hours ago, the diamond’s owner showed up to his bank to retrieve it from his vault. It’s caught on security—definitely the same guy. He went to the counter and produced all the paperwork and, in broad daylight, had the diamond delivered into his hands. Then he left the bank. He just walked out with it.”

Now it was making a little more sense. “But it wasn’t the diamond’s owner, was it?”

“Do you think it was Polyjuice Potion?”

“Seems unlikely,” James said. “That would be a lot of effort.”

“I suppose it would be,” the man said. “The Imperius Curse, then?”

James thought about it for a moment. “There are too many factors. Too many people would have to be cursed—no, it would be a liability.”

The man at the door shuffled his hat under one arm and reached into his vest pocket. “So how do you think I got away with it?”

James smirked. “I know how.”

Teddy Lupin lifted the hat to his head, and as it passed his face his features returned to something familiar, a mischievous, confident smile, and a mess of turquoise hair. He held out his other hand to James, unfurling his fingers from his palm to display a glittering pink diamond resting beneath his heart line.

“Long time no see, old friend,” Teddy said. “I have a job for you.”

 

* * *

 

James Sirius was never the _interesting_ Potter. When he wasn’t living on a couch in South London, he was staying the weekend in his childhood bedroom, trying to pretend that his mum didn’t give him those looks when he came down for breakfast that clearly said, “What are you still doing here?”

He carried out a conversation with her in his mind, where he replied, “It’s just the weekend, mum. I’ll be back in London before you know it.”

But she would continue: “Look at Al, an Auror in training! Look at Lily, her first article already published in the Quibbler! What have you done?”

James wouldn’t have an answer to that. Twenty-two, four years out of Hogwarts, unemployed. That was the problem with being the son of the most famous wizard in Britain, and one of the most wealthy—he’d never wanted for anything; and as a result, had never found his _calling_ , or whatever.

Not for want of trying.

It had ended in Houston, Texas, America, on a quiet highway between Fry’s Electronics and nowhere, with the disposable mobile frying in James’ hand under the summer sun, and Victoire’s voice at the other end of the line, saying, “JSP? JSP, come in. Can you hear me?” In his other hand was his wand and it was pointed level at an American—American?—agent.

Cover, blown.

The job had been a schoolboy’s fantasy, a fever dream brought on by too much James Bond on Uncle Dudley’s telly and too many sensationalist novels in the fiction section of the Hogwarts library. International espionage wasn’t a sustainable career choice, though. James had worked that out quickly enough. It was in the way his family had told him how much they missed him, the way he lost touch with his friends, the way everyone he tried to date dumped him. Because he was never around.

The compromise, then, had to be that he was _always_ around, always hanging around where he wasn’t really needed, because he had nothing better to do with his time.

After he was compromised, he moved back home, and lasted about a week before a shouting match with Lily sent him running. It was just after Al finished at Hogwarts, so James lived on his couch for a bit, but Al’s Auror friends were always around and generally being young and successful and unbearable. James had swallowed his pride and went back to Victoire, asked if she had any work for a compromised agent.

“You can mind the safehouse when I’m away,” she’d said.

It was unpaid work, but for someone from a family as wealthy as the Potters, unpaid work was as good as any. James took it, and for a while, he enjoyed it too—there was a certain charm to seeing all these different people come and go, and making them coffee. If anything, James would always be able to get a job as a barista.

And just as things were getting boring, Teddy Lupin showed up on his doorstep.

 

* * *

 

The scene was disarmingly Muggle. Teddy, today a young woman with a peacock feather in her green suede hat and a matching blazer, was sitting in an equally murky green armchair at the window of the Costa’s down the road from Victoire’s flat.

“I like the feather,” James greeted him. “Nice touch.”

Teddy looked up from over his drink—a matcha latte, to match the rest. “Do you think so?”

It was incredible how he could change every part of himself, right down to his vocal chords. There was a second cup sitting on the table—coffee, black, just how James liked it. Teddy would never have done that. Whoever this was apparently would.

“Yeah,” James said, “it’s, uh. Fancy.”

“I’m going for fancy,” Teddy said. “I’m going for Malfoy cousin.”

James cast his eyes over the straight blonde hair, the impeccable emerald green nails. “Well, you certainly achieve it.”

“This won’t be the last you’ll see of the Malfoy cousin,” Teddy said. “What do you think I should call her? Scorpina?”

“Don’t be stupid,” James said. “That’s not a real name. You want something like… Columba. Carina.”

Teddy sat back. “ _Someone_ paid attention in Astronomy.”

“Shut up.” James wished he could change his appearance at will too—the first thing he’d do would be to work out how to get the colour out of his cheeks.

“If you must know,” Teddy said, “she’s a real person. Lyra Yaxley. Another fucking constellation. We met last week—I was a little drunk, but she was amiable enough. She’s your age, I think, maybe a year older. The first Yaxley to be sorted into Gryffindor in Merlin knows how long. And a more than willing participant in one of my schemes.”

James knew the name, but he couldn’t have put a face to Lyra Yaxley. Still, the woman in front of him—Teddy, _Teddy_ —looked a lot like a Malfoy or a Yaxley ought to look. He even held himself differently: haughtier, warier.

“So what’s the scheme this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Teddy said, grinning. He touched a hand to his neck, long fingers brushing against a barely-there silver chain. There, pendant right in the centre, sat the pink diamond, mounted in a light silver frame, catching the light. James blinked away, his eyes flashing with the afterimage.

Stirring his coffee, he said, “Liar.” He consciously keeping his eyes to the table.

“Be that as it may,” Teddy said, “I want you to know that I’m not just some thief. I have other jobs.”

“Like what?”

Teddy stuck his chin in the air—a distinctly un-Teddy gesture. “Have you ever wanted an identical twin?”

“Have you met Lorcan and Lysander?” James countered. “No thank you.”

“Never wanted to have someone take over your life for a little while?” Teddy pressed. “You know, work is getting boring, so your twin does a day in your place. That sort of thing.”

“I can quite honestly say I have never wanted that,” James said.

“You’re no fun,” Teddy said. “But, that’s okay—it would be weird to look like you. No, I don’t think I could do it, even if you paid me. I run this service, you see…”

“Another respectable job,” James said.

Teddy raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. For a small fee, I do impersonations. One-night-only affairs, you know. It takes the burden off for busy people, or, in Lyra’s case, people who just hate their families.”

“Why does she wear so much green if she was in Gryffindor?” James asked. “Does she really hate her family that much?”

“Look at me,” Teddy said, affronted. “Red is _not_ my colour.”

In that moment, his tone changed, his posture shifted, and he was an entirely different person. It was one thing to be able to look like someone else, and another entirely to be able to _act_ like someone else—Teddy really was a master of disguise.

“This Friday night,” he continued, “there’s a soiree at Malfoy Manor. Full of purebloods and sympathisers, Lucius Malfoy’s personal guest list. Lyra has _graciously_ allowed me to attend in her place. She’s even letting me bring a date of my own choosing.”

It clicked.

James said, “Oh, no.”

“Oh yes,” Teddy said. “Lyra was working in America at roughly the same time as you and Vic were. It’s not impossible that you’d know each other.”

“I am _not_ coming along on your job just because I might have known your client,” James said. “Find another stooge to keep you company, Teddy, I’m not doing it.”

Teddy hummed—it was a slip, because whatever Lyra was like, that little hum was all Teddy. “And what if I told you that I wanted you to come along for other reasons? That this was for my _other_ job?”

The diamond, hanging off such a flimsy necklace, so brazenly displayed, glinted in the light reflected from a passing car. James had been a doorkeeper for too long, sleeping on Victoire’s couch and looking after her safehouse while she was off doing real work. He wasn’t built for a sedentary life—he had been a spy, and he had been _good_ at it.

“You, in particular,” Teddy added, “have the skills to pull off something as audacious as this.”

James pursed his lips. “So what’s my cut?”

“Half the profit,” Teddy said easily, putting his mug down on the table between them. “You in?”

An opportunity like this might never come again.

“Yeah,” James said. “I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

Victoire was home early, her feet up on the dining table and Macy curled up in her lap. “So good to see you after so long, _mon cheri_.”

She looked pointedly at Teddy. Teddy looked pointedly back. James looked away from both of them, because he was all too aware that they had history, and he didn’t need to be reminded, thank you very much.

“I’ve been busy,” was all Teddy said.

“So have I,” Victoire said.

James cleared his throat.

“Right,” Teddy said. He was as close to himself as he ever got around other people—the bridge of his nose was dotted with freckles, sympathetic to James and Victoire’s Weasley branding. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to tell he could ever change his appearance, except maybe with a bottle of hair dye.

And he was still wearing the diamond necklace.

“Let’s get started.”

A large sheet of parchment was spread out across the dining table, weighed down at the corners with three mugs and a box of breadsticks.“This is a map of Malfoy Manor,” Teddy said, sweeping his hand across the parchment in a broad gesture.

James and Victoire shared a look. “It’s blank,” James said.

“Good observation,” Teddy said. “Malfoy Manor is one of the most heavily-guarded places in Magical Britain, just behind Azkaban, Hogwarts, and Gringotts. We don’t know shit about it because it’s impossible to get a read on it through all those wards.”

“And you want to rob it,” James said. He had meant for it to be a question, but he couldn’t keep the flat incredulity out of his voice.

In response, Teddy pulled a quill from one of the paperweight mugs, ready to write. James flinched—that was _his_ mug full of ink. On the parchment, Teddy drew a loop with a cluster of circles at one end.

“What is that meant to be?” Victoire asked. “A head with shampoo?”

“A Quidditch match gone wrong?” James suggested.

Teddy was not an inherently threatening person—he levelled them with an approximation of a glare. “It’s a _necklace_.”

“Your new thing,” Victoire said.

“This is anything but new,” Teddy said. Confidence restored, he was back in his element. “This necklace is centuries old, made from the finest gemstones sourced from around the world, and then—then _amplified_ , if you will, with magic. It’s said to be every colour at once.”

 _Said to be_. “So you’ve never actually seen it?” James asked.

Frowning, Teddy poked his quill back into the ink-pot mug. “Of course not. I told you, Malfoy Manor’s security is out of this world, and even then I’ve never had any excuse to pay a visit.” He paused, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, it’s a gamble whether or not the necklace actually exists. I can only find a couple of references to it, in auction house catalogues and ancient inventories.”

“So we’re stealing something that might not exist from the most secure private property in Magical Britain. Wonderful.”

“You promised you’d help me out,” Teddy said. “You can’t back out now.”

“I’m not,” James said. “I’m not backing out. I’m just becoming increasingly aware of what a _stupid fucking idea_ this is, Teddy!”

“Glad to have you on board,” Teddy said, nonplussed.

Taking up the quill again, he began to scribble on the parchment, drawing what he imagined Malfoy Manor might look like, something he must have pieced together from word of mouth.

“So here’s how it’s going to work,” he continued, still intent on his sketch. “The party officially kicks off around seven. Naturally, we will arrive fashionably late. It’s expected to run into the early hours of the morning, so we won’t have to worry about timeframe. However, we will need to perfectly stage our exit from the main party so that people know we’re present and beyond reproach.”

“Wait,” James said, “so we put in an appearance, then fuck off for a bit to pretend like we’re, what, shagging behind a tapestry?”

Victoire raised an eyebrow. James did _not_ look at her.

“That’s one option,” Teddy said. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I was thinking food poisoning, though.”

“Food poisoning would cause a panic,” Victoire said. “You can just use some Puking Pastilles and call it an unrelated incident.”

“Genius,” Teddy said. He grinned up at Victoire, and she kept her eyebrow very firmly raised back at him. “And undetectable.”

James pursed his lips. “Just how far under the radar do we need to be?”

“As far as I can tell,” Teddy said, “any and all magic done on the property is picked up by a complex network of spells. There are guards posted all around the manor and, when the detection spell is triggered near them, they know where to look.”

Teddy had drawn a fairly respectable map on the parchment, and went on to mark paths, squiggly lines and question marks. It was so believable that James could almost forget it was all speculation.

“So that means we have one rule,” Teddy concluded. “ _No magic_.”

 

* * *

 

Lyra Yaxley was wearing green. “A peace offering,” Teddy called it. The dress robes were pretty but practical, with a high neck and a collar studded with emeralds. James had no doubt that, under that collar, Teddy was wearing the pink diamond.

“You look good,” James said. “Uh, I mean, convincing.”

“Thanks,” Teddy said. Lyra was shorter than James by a bit, which was unnerving. Teddy had always been taller than James, always. “Shall we head in?”

James nodded. “You should take my arm. Make it look more like we’re on a date.”

Where Teddy might have blushed, or laughed nervously, Lyra smirked. It wasn’t good, or bad—just different. “If you insist.”

One arm extended gallantly, James led the way through the wrought iron archway to Malfoy Manor. A white gravel path marked the distance from the gate to the mansion’s front doors, lined by low topiary. Beyond the hedges and roaming the pristine fields of dark grass were maybe a dozen peacocks, some in full colour and others albino. It was the tail end of summer and the night was alive with a sense of opulence and expectation, carried in on the evening breeze.

They were stopped by a guard at the front doors. An austere wizard with an alarmingly long scroll of parchment narrowed his eyes at them. “Names?”

“Lyra Yaxley,” Teddy said smoothly, “plus one.”

The guard turned to James. “ _Name_?”

“James Sirius Potter.”

Expression souring, the guard made a note on his parchment. Not looking up, he said, “You can go in.”

Now, James let Teddy lead the way. Teddy was much better at looking like he knew what he was doing, whereas James’ confusion would always show on his face. He wished he’d been more amenable to Al, back when they’d still orbited the same social circles. Al was big mates with Scorpius Malfoy, and he would probably fit right in at a do like this.

Once they were well inside the entrance hall, the indicators of a party in full swing began to filter out of the ballroom—the sound of goblets clinking together, of whispered conversation and shouted greetings, of a chamber orchestra playing a lilting waltz.

Al would know what to do.

“Don’t act so nervous,” Teddy said. “Merlin, didn’t they teach you _anything_ in spy school? Never let people know you’re up to something.”

“Any Potter would be nervous, surrounded by Malfoys,” James said.

“You’re not _any Potter_.”

James didn’t have an argument for that.

They passed through a door into the ballroom, and James felt the pull of the crowd right away. There were house elves circulating with fluted goblets of elderflower wine—James took one as soon as he could, because there was nothing like alcohol to steady the nerves.

“Drinking on the job,” Teddy muttered, “is inadvisable.”

“It’s one glass,” James said. “And anyway, how else am I going to take the Pastille?”

Teddy blinked away a momentary confusion. “Oh, I thought it would be more sympathetic if I’m the one throwing up all over the marble floor. You can be my knight in shining armour.”

“I already regret this,” James said.

The problem was, Teddy was there on more than one job. They were only a few feet into the ballroom when someone accosted Lyra Yaxley for a chat, a witch in dress robes so violently purple that they made James’ eyes hurt.

“Haven’t seen you in so long, Lyra!” she said. “How was—where was it this time?”

“Finland,” Teddy said. “It was… cold.”

The witch laughed like this was the most outrageously funny comment she had ever heard. “Such a jaunt,” she said. “I’ve heard from your brother that you intend to travel to Mongolia next.” The way she said _Mongolia_ gave the impression that she wasn’t quite convinced it existed.

“Have you indeed,” Teddy said. “I don’t know if you could trust anything my _brother_ has to say on the matter.”

“Oh, of course,” the witch said, taking a step back. “I had quite forgotten that you two were no longer on good terms.”

Impressed by how much Teddy knew about his client, but equally bored by the conversation, James turned his attention away to a pair of wizards standing nearby.

“—and it must have been magic,” one of them said. He was short, dressed in unflattering brown robes. “There’s no other way.”

“I stand by the theory that it was hypnotism,” said the other. This wizard wore much nicer robes, emerald and embroidered, but he was no taller. “Why would a wizard have enough interest in Muggle jewellery? Oh, to be sure, we Malfoys have a lot of gemstones in the family vault, but nothing so _mundane_ as diamonds. A pink diamond! Who could be bothered?”

If they’d seen it, they wouldn’t say that. James took a sip of his wine.

“Well, I’m of much the same opinion,” said the first wizard, “but it’s a philosophical question. What is more likely: that some competent Muggle hypnotised a sitting member of parliament into robbing himself, or that a canny wizard got their hands on some Polyjuice potion? Or indeed, used an Imperius Curse?”

The Malfoy folded his arms. “I don’t buy it.”

James wanted to hear more of the conversation—he was amused and relieved that they hadn’t considered the possibility of a metamorphmagus being involved—but Teddy reclaimed his arm.

“Thank Merlin she’s gone,” he said. “My godmother, I believe. Desperately kind to me despite my failing sympathies, but a royal pain in the arse.”

“You’re damn good at your job,” James said under his breath.

Teddy’s smile broke strangely across Lyra’s face. “I know,” he said, but it was all too obvious that the compliment took him by surprise. “So are you ready to go make some mischief?”

“I feel like we should mingle more,” James said, “but honestly, I couldn’t think of anything worse. Alright. Let’s go.”

They forged further into the ballroom, tracing the crowd to where it parted near one of the exits. By the time they paused, James had finished his wine, so he stopped a house elf for another goblet while Teddy surreptitiously took the Puking Pastille. It had a delayed effect—Uncle George had put hours of development into this, one of his first ever products—and so they held painstakingly normal conversation with a couple of Lyra Yaxley’s school friends, most surprised at her choice of a date, until something happened.

“Oh, oh Merlin,” Teddy said, doing a very good job of making it seem sudden, “I feel like I’m going to—”

 

* * *

 

Like everything else in Malfoy Manor, the bathrooms were built of affluence and affected carelessness. The floors had small silver tiles, the walls with larger tiles in a deep green, and all the fixtures were the same green.

Because the wards coating the Manor picked up on spells, they had cast _Scourgify_ in the ballroom, where everyone could see. There would be no doubt about what happened—James wondered if Teddy had only asked him along as a buffer, so that even though Lyra Yaxley had been the one who made a social disgrace of herself, there was still that Potter boy there, and somehow, it would be _his_ fault.

The escape was easy, after that. With Lyra claiming to be unwell they could leave quietly. A bathroom was exactly where they would be expected to be.

Teddy still hadn’t changed back into himself. James didn’t know whether he intended to. He wanted him to, though—Teddy gave up almost all of himself for his job, and James missed him, especially at times like this when they would’ve been laughing and joking, not sitting in a bathroom, with Teddy leaning over the sink just in case and James perched awkwardly on the edge of the deep green toilet seat.

“We’ve been here too long,” he said. “People will notice we’re missing.”

“I,” Teddy said, “am unwell. I am taking adequate time to recover.”

“Sure, but we have a window of opportunity,” James said. “And we don’t even know where we’re looking.”

Teddy nodded. “I know. Just give it a few more minutes.”

So James waited, impatiently, drumming his fingers on a bronze-plated pipe, aesthetically left half-exposed by the cistern. He languished in distraction, entertaining ideas of the necklace being hidden in one of the ridiculous bathrooms—maybe even this one—under the sink, behind the toilet, in the folds of the curtain around the bath.

It was so unbelievable, so unlikely, that they would even chance upon the necklace. And with no magic to help them locate it, the chances were even slimmer. At least they could count on the fact that no-one was paying attention to what they were doing—magic put a remarkable amount of trust in itself as the only way to get something done, and they hadn’t yet caught on to the utility of security cameras.

James looked up and caught Teddy’s eye.

“Alright,” Teddy said. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

More steady on his feet, he turned out of the bathroom and down the right hand corridor, which led deeper into Malfoy Manor. It wasn’t long before the art deco lamps, kept alight by magic, gave way to candles mounted in wax-coated, misshapen iron stands, or simply floating mid-air. The carpet—green, as was everything else—disappeared under their feet. Slowly, Teddy became himself again.

He was too tall for the dress robes, too skinny, and they hung off his shoulders and spun around his ankles. His hair wasn’t the usual turquoise but a dusty brown, suitable for camouflage, the colour that James’ fingertip might be if he swiped it along one of these ancient walls.

It was reassuring.

“I know you don’t have a plan,” James began, to distract himself from how good Teddy looked with natural hair, “but some direction would be good.”

Teddy shrugged, walking a few steps ahead. “What do you want me to say? Turn left here, go right there?”

James shot a glare at Teddy’s back. “I was a field agent. I was used to having someone like Vic on the other end of the line, letting me know what to expect. I don’t like going in blind.”

“If you’re going to get involved in my line of work, you’ll have to get used to something a little different,” Teddy said.

“Who said I was getting involved in this?” James shot back.

“Oh, come on,” Teddy said. “You’re bored. Anyone with eyes can see that. I’m offering you a respectable job—”

“Respectable?”

“—with casual but steady employment,” Teddy concluded. “You’re not even a little bit interested?”

“Of course I’m interested,” James said, annoyed, “but it’s dangerous, and you’re stupid about it. You know what I overheard in the ballroom? Two wizards discussing your little daylight robbery. One of them even reckoned it was magic. Sooner or later, someone’ll twig that it could only have been the work of a metamorphmagus.”

Teddy paused in front of a candleabra. “You underestimate me.”

James stopped too, closing his eyes, breathing in slowly, opening his eyes, exhaling. “Don’t tell me. You’ve thought it through?”

“After a fashion,” Teddy said. “I know my strengths. I made sure the diamond’s owner was alone with no alibi at the time of the robbery. Even if someone were to guess that a metamorphmagus had done the job, no-one would be able to trace it back to me. I made quite sure of that.”

“Which is why you were wearing the diamond out in public the other day.”

“Disillusionment charms are first year,” Teddy said. “Are we quite done with this?”

“Yeah,” James said. “We’re done.”

He liked Teddy—in a few ways—but he wasn’t prepared to go back to this sort of danger, especially not without any protocol.

They walked on.

 

* * *

 

It had been ten, maybe fifteen minutes before they finally found something interesting. _Interesting_ in this case not being a sign saying _Priceless Necklace In Here_ , but a change of scenery.

Opening up into the night air, the cobwebbed corridors gave way to a courtyard, green grass black under moonlight and marble colonnades down the sides. It was broad enough for a game of Quidditch, stately enough to be a scene from history. James could have stayed in the cloisters all night, but Teddy was already vaulting over the low wall, slipping off his shoes to walk barefoot on the grass.

“Teddy—”

Looking back over his shoulder, Teddy smiled. It was such an innocent look on him that James nearly overbalanced and fell face-first into a Doric column.

Instead, he just shook his head. “Be careful.”

“You know me,” Teddy said. “I’m never careful.”

“I guess that’s why I’m here,” James said, sighing, climbing out of the cloister and into the courtyard.

Unlike the grandiose entrance, there were no hedges in the courtyard, no impeccable topiary. But there were peacocks.

James sidestepped a bright white feather and caught up to Teddy. “We can’t spend too long here,” he said. “No time for distractions.”

“Lyra hasn’t been back to Malfoy Manner since she was a kid,” Teddy said. He shrugged. “I don’t know, it seems natural to me that she’d explore.”

“You’re not Lyra,” James reminded him. “What if someone sees us?”

“Were you always such a worrywart?” Teddy asked lightly.

Actually, no—James was never a model student, always sneaking out at night with Louis and looking for trouble. James’ dad had passed on a map to him, from his own father, and his godfather, and Teddy’s father, and someone else they never talked about. They could do with a Marauder’s Map of Malfoy Manor, James thought.

“Relax,” Teddy said. “Just—look, it’s such a nice night. You can see all the constellations from here.”

Teddy was right. James stopped to tip his head back; the sky was something else in this part of the country. The more he looked at it, the more it blurred, until his vision was swimming and he found that he didn’t really care about the necklace anymore, just this feeling, and this night. Teddy was standing so close by. He could stay here forever.

When Teddy spoke again, his voice sounded like it was a long way off. “I count eight peacocks.”

“Only eight?” James waited a moment before righting himself, scanning the area. “Yeah. Looks like eight.”

They were all albino peacocks, glinting in the darkness. They didn’t make any noise, but they couldn’t have been more present.

“Think of it like an obstacle course,” Teddy said. “Race you to the other end?”

In an instant, James’ mind switched to field mode. He clocked all the peacocks as obstructions, corners he had to turn, and sprinted past Teddy to get a head start. He heard Teddy calling out behind him, and ignored him like letting a wayward spell glance off his shoulder.

He ran until he felt chilled all over with the wind replacing his breath, and a hand grasped the back of his dress robes, sending him crashing to the ground. Tumbling at just the right angle that his glasses didn’t fall off—something he’d learnt in the field—he fell on his back, the soft grass cushioning him, a peacock feather snapping under his arm. Teddy fell too, on top of James, only one palm flat against the ground and a long arm keeping them separate.

“That was unfair,” Teddy said.

“Your idea,” James said. He had less breath in him than he realised. “You wanted me to lighten up?”

Teddy affected a pout. “I wanted to _win_.”

Experimentally, James bent his leg at the knee, lifting it off the ground. It framed them nicely, the way they lay.

“Maybe you have,” James said.

Teddy was about to reply, his mouth opening a fraction, when an almighty squawk cut through the stillness of the night. “Oh,” Teddy said, “fucking _peacocks_.”

“We should go,” James said, reluctant, “before anyone hears that something’s going on here.”

Teddy nodded, slowly getting to his feet. His shoes were lying on the grass beside him, his dress robes were rumpled. James allowed himself a moment of silence for what could’ve been.

As Teddy bent to pick up his shoes, ready to abscond, he paused. There, in front of him, was a peacock.

“Okay,” he said, “play nice.”

The peacock did not play nice. It dipped its neck and closed its beak around the topline of one of the shoes.

“Teddy, just leave it,” James said. A second peacock joined the first. “Teddy.”

“Let me reason with it,” Teddy said, which was the worst idea James had heard all evening, and that was saying something. “Come on, mate. Let go of the shoe. It’s not mine. Lyra wants her get-up back intact.”

“Lyra’s going to kill you anyway for getting dirt all over her dress robes,” James pointed out. “Leave it.”

Teddy was stubborn, though—something that James liked about him, something that drove James up the wall. He yanked on the shoe. This, the peacock saw as an affront to its nature, and pulled back just as hard. One of the other peacocks squawked; James saw that they were all crowding around now, craning their long white necks to see what was happening.

“Teddy.”

“Just—let me—”

“ _Edward_!”

Rounding on James, Teddy looked poised to argue, but with a barrage of flapping wings and whipping feathers they were both driven backwards. James stumbled, running for the safety of the cloisters at the far end of the courtyard, away from the ballroom. He didn’t stop to look back to see if Teddy was following, so he was pleasantly surprised to find Teddy only seconds behind him, still barefoot.

“Don’t _ever_ call me that again,” he said.

James laughed, breathless, relieved. “Sorry about the shoes.”

“It’s fine,” Teddy said, shrugging. “They were only slowing me down. Lyra has such narrow feet. I’ll buy her another pair.”

“Ready to move on?”

Teddy nodded. “Good to see you taking this seriously. Yeah, James. I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

James had hoped for the hallways to have a different feel to them on the other side of the courtyard, but it was hopelessly exactly the same as it had been before. He stuck close to Teddy, telling himself that he didn’t want them to lose each other in the dark maze, still fixating on that moment in the grass.

What did it _mean_?

He didn’t have long to think about it—slowly, the corridors started to change. Where the paintings had been dormant before, now they began to stir, opening their eyes and following James and Teddy’s movement.

There were more doorways, too, with light coming from beneath them. This was the part of the mansion where people lived.

“We need to be as quiet as possible,” James whispered. “Our chances of being discovered are higher than ever. I’d suggest a _Silencio_ for—”

“No magic,” Teddy cut in, loud enough that it made James’ spy instincts bristle.

It was easy enough for Teddy, with his bare feet and ability to literally blend in with the walls. James had a considerably harder time. He was aware of every scrape and kick as his shoes scuffed their way down ancient floorboards.

To take his mind of the way every noise jumped out at him, he fell back on speculation. If this part of the house was lived-in, then how many people lived in Malfoy Manor? It was too fancy to pass for servants’ quarters—not that James would know how servants lived in Malfoy Manor, or even if there _were_ servants. It could just as well be held together by spells and house elves. But it felt like there would be servants in a place like this.

The corridor came to an abrupt end at a junction: left, back to the ballroom, or right, deeper into the unknown.

From the left, voices—a spy had to learn to distinguish voices, and James recognised the sounds of the two short wizards who had been discussing the diamond heist.

“Quite right, quite right,” said the one in green. “Old Lucius’ parties are losing their sparkle. We’d find more entertainment in Azkaban.”

The one in brown laughed, not unkindly. “Now if you’d only concede my point—”

Distracted eavesdropping, James was caught by surprise when Teddy grabbed him by his sleeve and led them down the right fork, into an unlocked room.

With his back to the door, Teddy pressed a finger to his lips. The sound of footsteps came closer, but the voices became indistinct and the conversation was lost—which was a pity because, despite himself, James was curious about Malfoy gossip. He rubbed his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on Teddy to ground himself.

 _We’ll be fine_ , he mouthed.

Teddy gave him a look back that said, _I can’t lip-read_.

The footsteps got louder. Slowly, gradually, the clarity of the discussion returned. James caught a few words about the stock market.

“Um, James,” Teddy said, barely any body to his voice.

James narrowed his eyes. This was not the time.

“James,” Teddy said again, “turn around.”

Twisting the soles of his shoes so that he didn’t make the floorboards creak, James turned. His eyes were getting used to the darkness, and he began to discern the shape of a four-poster bed, decked out with sheer and embossed curtains in alternating layers—green, probably, although it was impossible to tell in this light. Where Teddy was looking, though, was not at the bed. It was at a portrait on the wall, an elderly woman regarding them with undisguised curiosity.

Frozen in place, James made eye contact with the portrait. The portrait grinned.

“—well, the price of diamond is very good these days,” came a voice from outside. “You’d be surprised how much—”

The portrait burst into vivid life.

“Young men!” she exclaimed. “Why it must have been five hundred years since last I saw any young men around these parts!”

James looked over his shoulder at Teddy. Teddy shrugged. Maybe if they didn’t respond, nothing more would happen. That was wishful thinking.

“And dressed up so finely too,” the portrait continued, becoming more animated. “I can’t have seen a good set of dress robes since I went to balls myself—oh, seventeen something, perhaps? I’ll hazard that wasn’t five hundred years ago, in fact—”

Outside, the topic of conversation changed: “Do you hear that?”

“We’re going to die here,” Teddy bemoaned. “We’re going to be murdered in the bowels of Malfoy Manor and no-one will ever find our bodies and—”

“Would you shut up?” James hissed. “I don’t know how you ever get anything done if you can’t keep a cool head in a crisis. We’ll just Apparate. It’ll be fine.”

“No magic!” Teddy said. Their voices were becoming louder in the knowledge that they’d be drowned out by the portrait’s incessant rambling. “We can hide under the bed, or… if there was some way to get her to stop talking…”

James appreciated the way that Teddy liked to think these things through, reason his way out of problems. He could never be that person in a situation like this, though—the time for hesitation had long passed, and James shot first, asked questions later.

“—and that’s when I first danced with Septimus Malfoy,” the portrait said. “Oh, but he was a fine young man! It was only a pity I was to marry his brother, but of course Octavian didn’t last long, so—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” James said, “but we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

He made to lift the portrait off the wall, intending to break the canvas over his knee if he had to, but the moment his hands gripped the sides of the frame, he felt the wall give way.

“Teddy,” he said, “Teddy, we can—”

For once, Teddy was quick on his feet and he ran over to help James push the wall askew. It rotated about a central point, and they levered it open just enough to squeeze through. There was a rush of air as they closed it behind them, and it was pitch dark, freezing cold.

James could still hear the portrait talking from the other room, but she was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“This is the place,” came the voice belonging to the wizard in the brown robes. “This is where I heard the voices.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the portrait. “Young men! Why it must have been five hundred years since last I saw any young men around these parts! And dressed up so finely too—”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t move until they were certain the room behind them was empty. The portrait went quiet, leaving a heavy absence of sound. Although James had time for his eyes to adjust, they didn’t—it was still just as impenetrable.

“What now?” he muttered. “This feels like a dead end.”

“It might lead somewhere,” Teddy said. “We won’t know unless we try.”

So they stepped cautiously, each footfall silent by design and only inches after the last. James kept one hand trailing along the wall, picking up dust and centuries-old cobwebs as he went. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before they hit another wall. This one, like the last, came loose with a bit of a push, turning around its central axis and letting through a sudden shaft of yellow candlelight. The dust it raised made James feel lightheaded, but passing through offered him some relief.

The exit was a corridor, much better lit than any other they’d walked down. The panel of the wall that they’d come through had a portrait on it too, and she could have been a sister to the other—mercifully, though, she was asleep. Along the corridors were more portraits, and statues too, busts of Malfoys long dead.

The other difference was that this was an upper level, with a wooden balcony overlooking an empty hall, guarded from above by a chandelier which had seen better days. The balcony only broke in one place, making way for a staircase that curved down to the hall below.

“Weird,” Teddy said. “I could’ve sworn we didn’t go up any stairs.”

“We didn’t,” James said. “So if it was a magical passageway that brought us here, then—”

Teddy laughed. “Don’t worry about that; if it’s an old spell, it’s already been cast. We won’t be detected.”

“I wasn’t worried,” James said, even though he had been, a bit.

“Good,” Teddy said. “This place has a good feel to it. Thief’s instinct, James—the front of the manor is too open to hide something valuable, but the area we’ve just left was too dingy, not worthy of having fine jewels in its midst. But here…”

“Here?”

“The middle ground. If I were to keep a jewel in an ancient mansion, it’d be in a place like this.”

“I suppose you’ve robbed all sorts of ancient mansions,” James joked.

But Teddy was perfectly serious when he replied, “More than you can imagine.” James wondered just how long this had been going on.

“The difference,” Teddy added, running a hand along the railing as he walked, “is that I could use magic to find what I was looking for.”

He leant over the balcony, precarious. James put an arm out, just in case.

“Across there,” Teddy said, pointing to the other side of the gallery. “See that door with the glass pane?”

“Frosted glass,” James said. “There’s no way to see behind it.”

“Except to go in,” Teddy said. “Don’t you think this place feels like a museum? I’ll bet you anything it’s in there.”

“Bet you that kiss we didn’t have in the courtyard,” James said, speaking quickly so that he wouldn’t stop to think what a bad idea it was.

But Teddy’s face lit up with a grin. “You’re on.”

They would’ve gone further, and maybe something would’ve come of that conversation, interrupted only by the sound of a door opening at the end of the corridor. This wasn’t like the bedroom, where they might’ve gotten away with hiding under the bed—this was an open space without even a single tapestry for cover.

James thought fast. He was already close, so he slung one leg after the other over the balustrade and balanced on the bottom railing, inching towards one of the columns around the gallery. He hadn’t done anything like this since America—no magic, just him and his wits, climbing out of a dangerous situation one balcony at a time.

He couldn’t see who had come into the corridor, but he could see Teddy. Or rather, he could see the short Malfoy in the green robes. For a moment James was so shocked he almost fell backwards off the railing. But of course Teddy was observant, being in the profession of lying himself. He must have noticed the man he now resembled back in the ballroom, when he had been talking about the diamond theft. Of course Teddy would have heard that. He probably even realised who it was back in the bedroom with the portrait.

As to the other people present, coming out of the opened door, James recognised their voices even more quickly than before.

“Thanks for coming,” said someone who was unmistakably Scorpius Malfoy. “I can’t cope with grandfather’s bloody soirees.”

“It’s fine,” came the other voice, James’ own brother, Al. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“As always, delighted to be your first choice,” Scorpius said flatly. James imagined he might be rolling his eyes too. “We should probably get back, though, since—what the hell are _you_ doing here, cousin?”

Teddy put his palms out obsequiously. “So sorry,” he said, “I seem to have lost my way.”

“Quite right,” Scorpius said. “I don’t remember you being allowed into the living wing.”

“Of course,” Teddy said. “As I said—”

Al interrupted: “How did you even get here?”

James could sense the trajectory of this conversation—Teddy was out of his element. He knew he was a Malfoy, but he didn’t know which one, and it wouldn’t be long before he was found out. James had to get him out of there somehow, but how?

A distraction.

From where he was perched, he had a good view of the supporting cords to the chandelier. What were the chances it was held up by magic? It looked just as ancient as everything else. If he climbed onto the railing without anyone noticing, he might be able to yank the cord free of whatever was holding it together.

Teddy looked out the corner of his eye and James caught his gaze, giving him a nod.

“But look!” Teddy said. “Since I’m here, perhaps you can tell me about this statue. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

James hung low off the balcony, gripping two balusters so hard his knuckles turned white. He could’ve fallen any moment, so he would have to act fast. He watched as Al and Scorpius joined Teddy by the statue—Scorpius seemed all too happy to begin a long speech about the history of the man whose likeness had been immortalised in marble.

When their backs were well and truly turned, James swung up, climbing dangerously until he was standing on the railing. It was a curved surface, old wood, unsteady under his feet, and he felt like it might fall away at any moment. Looking up, he could see another storey above him, another balcony. If he could make it up there—

There wasn’t time for hesitation. He grabbed the chandelier cord with one hand and climbed onto it like a tightrope. He could’ve fallen to his death right then. But what a waste that would be! He still had to prove Teddy wrong and win his bet. One hand on the cord, he was able to catch the lower railing of the upper balcony with the other. Using the cord like a stepping stone, he left it almost as soon as he’d landed and jumped up to the second balcony, flailing, a bit of wood snapping underfoot.

After a moment, once he had balanced, he felt steady enough to bend down and try to disconnect the cord—but he didn’t have to. His weight had been enough, and his glance caught the chandelier mid-swing. He watched unblinking as it hit the balcony at the other side of the gallery, shattering into its component parts. A thousand tiny crystals scattered across the floor of the hall below, blinking in the candlelight and falling with a thousand tiny knocks.

If James hadn’t been so terrified of falling himself, he might have found time to appreciate the strange beauty of it. As it was, he kept his death-grip on the railing and only turned his head enough to see Scorpius and Al running down the grand staircase.

“House elves!” Scorpius was yelling. “Where are the house elves? How did this happen?”

More confident in his athletic ability, James managed to jump back down to the floor below. If Teddy wasn’t still disguised as a Malfoy cousin, James would’ve kissed him then and there.

“They’re distracted,” Teddy said, delighted. “Race you to the other side?”

“I’m never racing you again,” James said, but he did anyway, running as loud as he liked, because it wouldn’t have been distinguishable from the growing commotion downstairs.

Never mind the necklace, he thought. He had survived, and he’d done it without casting a single spell. _This_ was what it was about.

 

* * *

 

It took some time to get the door open, but James was nothing if not prepared. He had assumed all “no magic” meant was that he’d have to pick a few locks, not that he’d be running away from peacocks and climbing through holes in the wall and smashing a chandelier as a distraction.

And they had time. There was a lot of noise and fuss below them, but no-one came up into the gallery. It seemed that this really was the living wing of the mansion.

James shifted the bobby pin in the lock until it sprung open, the door swinging lazily on its hinges. Just like there were no security cameras in Malfoy Manor, there was no protection against good old fashioned Muggle robbery. The property was off the grid, nonexistent as far as cartography was concerned. If someone wanted to unlock one of its doors, they would use _Alohomora_. Surely they would!

While James was still crouched, Teddy was standing, pushing the door open. With the door closed there were no lights in this room, not even a candelabra. But there was a window at the far end—a perfect circle, dramatically framed—to let in the moonlight, which was enough.

It was a long, thin room, and each wall was lined with glass-fronted display cases. This was much more than some necklace. There were jewels of all colours, mounted on slanted stands, clearly on show. Teddy was right—this place was like a museum. As well as jewellery there were books set open to pages with detailed illuminations, metallic-scaled snakes suspended in jars of alcohol, gilt boxes that could contain myriad more treasures.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Teddy breathed. “Fuck! Why didn’t I bring a bag?”

“Just how much do you plan on stealing?” James asked.

Teddy looked thoughtful. He had shifted back into his own appearance, streaks of turquoise running through his dusty hair. “The books would be hard to authenticate, so I probably wouldn’t take them. But all this jewellery… it’s my _trade_ , James. I could make a killing.”

“I meant to ask,” James said, “what exactly do you do with all your money?”

“Most of it is saved for a rainy day,” Teddy said. “Some of it goes to orphanages. Don’t look at me like that—kids like I was, kids like your dad was, they need something going for them. Sometimes, though—”

He paused, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, sometimes I just keep the jewellery.”

James laughed. “You don’t need to look so ashamed. There’s nothing wrong in wanting something nice for yourself.”

“Sure,” Teddy said. “I guess. Harry would go ballistic if he heard you speaking like that, though. He doesn’t—he doesn’t know about all this. You won’t tell him, will you?”

“No shit,” James said. “I’ll just tell him I’m going back into… into my old business. With Vic.”

“He won’t like it.”

They were silent. The moonlight caught on dust in the air, and James leant back against one of the display cases. “What matters,” he said slowly, “is that I like it.”

“James,” Teddy said. He didn’t say anything else. His voice was all air, his eyes wide. He lifted a hand, resting it just by James’ ear, against the cool glass of the display case.

James remembered the bet they made. He closed his eyes. “Teddy.”

“No, _James_ ,” Teddy said, “behind you!”

For a moment, James was lost. “What—”

“Move, move!” Teddy pushed James to one side, closing in on the display case. “The _necklace_.”

There, where James’ head had been just a moment ago, was a necklace mounted on a stand shaped like the curve of a neck, the rise and fall of collarbones. A silver chain gave way to a network of hooks and rings at the dip, curving around each other to make a net of the most beautiful gemstones James had ever seen. They were clear like crystal, but they caught the light brilliantly, flashing green and pink, yellow and orange, sometimes even a soft purple like a lavender flower.

“This must be it,” Teddy said. “Oh, Merlin. James, unlock it!”

Tearing his eyes away, James retrieved his bobby pin and shimmied open the case. The necklace was even more beautiful without glass obscuring it. Teddy reached out to it reverently, his fingers flinching back when they were just moments away.

“What’s the problem?” James asked.

“It’s nothing,” Teddy said. “I… if I’m being honest, I didn’t really think we’d find it. But from the drawings I’ve seen, this is definitely it.”

“I didn’t think we would either,” James said, and, remembering his own reluctance at the beginning of the night, added, “So don’t back out now.”

Teddy sucked in a breath. “Yeah. I won’t.”

He didn’t move, though, so James leant forward and undid the clasp at the neck of Teddy’s dress robes. “You’ll be wearing it?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said. “There’s no way they’ll be able to detect it.”

James let another clasp fall loose. “It’s a pity, almost,” he said. “This means you won the bet, so I don’t get my reward.”

“The kiss,” Teddy said. “I don’t know.”

At Teddy’s neck was the pink diamond, resting elegantly against his skin. James let his hands fall to his side. “Alright, yeah,” he said. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Teddy said. “Today, we’ve done something incredible. I’d say that’s worth a little more than a kiss, wouldn’t you?”

 

* * *

 

It began on Victoire’s couch, one weekend, at a loose end. James and Louis were restless, graduation fading with the help of all the drinks that came after it, but with Hogwarts still hanging around like an embarrassing old friend who’d outstayed their welcome. They were looking at flats, but Louis kept saying things like, “James, I want to go to France,” and James couldn’t stand losing his best friend to the continent, so he’d say, “Just one more. Let’s just look at one more.”

Victoire had just broken up with Teddy, so she was hanging around the flat like a bad smell, and Dominique was home from university—the latest obsession—for the weekend. They were messy people, but James loved them like family. They _were_ family.

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Louis said, “houses are cheaper in Paris, or even in the countryside. We could do a lot worse.”

“You know I’m not going,” James said. “Just stop trying, Lou.”

“You’re missing out,” Dominique said. “France is nice. Especially in summer. English summers are so… distasteful.”

James frowned. “You only say that because you spent them at Hogwarts. _Scotland_ is gloomy. London is fine! There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“It’s just not France,” Louis said.

Just then, Victoire came back into the living room, balancing five mugs of coffee in her hands. “Don’t listen to them, James. France is alright, but it’s boring.”

“Who’s the fifth?” Dominique asked.

Victoire looked icy. “Teddy’s coming by in a minute.”

Dominique narrowed her eyes. “You shouldn’t hang out with your ex.”

“Well, I’m seeing him off,” Victoire said. “I leave for America in two weeks.”

It was carnage, after that. None of them had known, but they listened as she explained that the Ministry had put her on a special detail—diplomatic stuff, couldn’t talk too much about it—and that she was going to be out of the country for at least two years. She was one of their youngest, and it was an honour. And it would be exiting.

James had never been interesting. He’d never been exciting. He’d been a troublemaker, kept hanging at Hogwarts by the thinnest of threads—they couldn’t throw him out when his grades were so good. As he listened to Victoire on that day, light summer rain outside, sun misting through the clouds, he thought of the world beyond the British Isles. And _not_ France. He thought of going somewhere so far away from his family and from all the expectations that came with being a Potter.

When Louis and Dominique had left, it was just James, Victoire, and Teddy.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Teddy said. “I’m branching out too, you know! I quit my job this morning. I’m going freelance.”

“Am I supposed to be proud of you?” Victoire said.

“I’m learning a new skill set,” Teddy said. “And—” a pause, “—I think James should too. Take him with you, Vic.”

James blinked, looking between them. “Wait, what?”

“We talked about it,” Victoire admitted. “It was Teddy’s idea, so in principle I was against it, but, well, you’re young, and you need something to do with your life. And I’m allowed to take on an apprentice. Come to America with me, James. I’ll teach you all about my line of work.”

“What exactly _is_ your line of work?” James asked.

“Oh,” Victoire said, grinning, “I’m a spy.”

 

* * *

 

The walk back to the ballroom felt like the longest part of the night, even though it wasn’t that far away from where the hidden passageway had taken them. James couldn’t tell what he must’ve looked like, but Teddy—Lyra Yaxley once again—was barefoot, and his dress robes were rumpled. There was a stray blade of grass sticking out of his hair. At least his robes were buttoned all the way up, though, two necklaces sitting safely underneath the collar.

When they returned, they were immediately beset by the woman who Teddy had identified as Lyra’s godmother. “Lyra, darling! You’ve missed all the excitement. But where have you been?”

Teddy shot a glance over his shoulder at James. “I was… occupied.”

The godmother looked very scandalised indeed. James felt himself swell with pride.

“So what was the excitement?” Teddy asked.

“Oh, you won’t believe it,” the godmother said. “A chandelier collapsed in the old ballroom! Well, no wonder it had fallen out of use—they found that one of the cords holding the chandelier up had snapped. Can you imagine? I had thought Malfoy Manor would be maintained better than that.”

“From what I’ve seen tonight,” Teddy said, “Malfoy Manor should try a little harder.”

They worked their way towards the edge of the crowd, stopped occasionally by reproachful looks. They even found Al and Scorpius—both Potter brothers did a very good job of pretending they were enraged by the other’s presence. And by the door, they passed the two wizards they had run into earlier, still arguing.

“I still say it was magic,” said the wizard in brown. “I won’t back down on that. I’m sorry, but I won’t.”

“There is simply no way anyone would _care_ enough,” said the wizard in green.

“But it would be so easy! Why, if it had been a metamorphmagus—”

James stopped listening and walked a little faster. Teddy didn’t seem to have heard, giving James a bemused look. But they didn’t speak again until they were well outside the manor, walking down a country road in the pitch-black night. Hedges lined the way and James trailed his fingers through the small leaves and twiggy branches.

Teddy was himself again.

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” James said. “I mean it. It was a miracle that we found the necklace.”

“I know, I know,” Teddy said. “I do know. Still—thank you for doing it with me.”

James smirked. “Do you mean the heist or the—”

“Oh, shut up,” Teddy said, blushing. “You know what I meant.”

“I know,” James said.

He let his eyes follow Teddy’s feet and the way the dust rose around them, dirtying the hem of Lyra’s dress robes. At the end of the path they stopped, ready to Apparate but reluctant to part.

“You could come back to Vic’s for the night,” James suggested.

“As much as I want to,” Teddy said, “I don’t think she’d appreciate it. You could come back to mine.”

“I have a safehouse to mind,” James said. “The night shift.”

Teddy shrugged. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

The cold air settled around them like a cocoon, stifling but comforting. James didn’t want the night to end.

“You know,” Teddy said, “when I told Vic she should take you to America with her, I couldn’t have imagined it would turn out like this.”

James looked away. “This isn’t a one-off, is it?”

“It isn’t,” Teddy said. “Your skills are too valuable to me. That thing you can do with your tongue—no, but really. You’re a good spy. A good thief. You’re wasted guarding a safehouse.”

“So where are we robbing next?”

Teddy shrugged. “Malfoy Manor was so easy, you know… I think we can go a little bigger. Gringotts, maybe.”

Something like that didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. James laughed. “I’ll find you the finest jewellery in the vaults.”

“Romantic,” Teddy said, deadpan.

“That’s what you’ll have to get used to,” James said. “Partner.”

“In crime,” Teddy said.

“In crime,” James agreed.

They kissed, and no more, under the moon. Teddy’s pointy nose—his real nose—knocked James’ glasses askew. James ran his fingers through Teddy’s hair, and it turned from turquoise to his natural brown.

That was how the night ended, under the stars and in the cool summer night and with thousands of galleons or millions of pounds worth of priceless gemstones in between them. And that was how the next day began—with a partnership, and a promise. A new start.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts!


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